


run, baby, run

by cherryvanilla



Series: Check Yes, Juliet [2]
Category: Toy Story (Movies)
Genre: California, College, Established Relationship, Living Together, M/M, Road Trips, Slice of Life, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 03:09:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8270353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvanilla/pseuds/cherryvanilla
Summary: “Road trips are a make or break thing,” said Sid as he blew smoke out the window.
Or, the sequel to forever we'll be (you and me)





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Nellie and Lisa, who both wanted a sequel to this fic and then Nellie started talking about tattoo artist Sid. 
> 
> Title by We Are Kings. Thanks to Amanda for beta <3

Sid might have gotten in Andy’s car but he was still skeptical about the entire endeavour. A fact he made perfectly clear to Andy twenty minutes into the drive, when they were out on the highway with nothing but open road ahead of them. 

“Road trips are a make or break thing,” said Sid as he blew smoke out the window. 

“Huh?” Andy asked. His foot that wasn't on the gas tapped nervously against the floormat. He kind of still couldn't believe this was happening. 

“Road trips,” Sid repeated. “There are so many variables. You can’t just -- tolerate everyone you go on a road trip with, man. It's like a handful of people in the world, a selective thing. This could kill us.” 

Andy looked over at him, eyebrow raised. “Is that what you’re worried about?” he asked, amusement plain. 

Sid rolled his eyes. “That and about fifty other things, Andrew. Tell you what: we make it to the California state line with this relationship in tact, I’ll blow you while you drive.” 

Andy ignored the flare of arousal at the thought and focused on frowning instead. 

“We’ll be fine,” he replied with conviction. 

“Not if you're picking the music,” Sid quipped, but he was grinning shark-like at Andy, and Andy fucking loved him. 

“My car, my music.”

“Those so aren't the rules, baby.”

Sid opened the glove compartment while Andy’s heart soared at the endearment. 

“And jeez, how do you not have a CD player in this joint? These cassettes are killing me.”

Andy snorted. “Oh the cassettes are killing you? Tell me more, Mr. Vinyl.”

“Vinyl is timeless, cassettes are not. If you tell me your tape deck hasn't eaten at least one of these…”

Andy said nothing and Sid roared triumphantly as he flipped through the stack, dismissing most of Andy’s taste, yet, oddly enough, giving approving grunts to the selections his mom put there.

“See? I like my music on flat, circular surfaces. Trustworthy.”

“Just fuckin’ pick something to play, if it'll shut you up,” Andy said, smiling so much his face hurt.

Sid did. 

Andy gained an new appreciation for The Grateful Dead in the next few hours, especially when Sid sang along to Box of Rain.

_________________________

They survived the road trip and the first few weeks together where everything felt tentative and scary as fuck. One of the first things Andy did was take Sid to the boardwalk in Long Beach. Sid said, “Not too shabby,” as they watched a sunset that Andy would’ve categorized as breathtaking. But Sid’s words were dry and his breath was hot in Andy’s ear and he was fucking _there_ , this was happening. 

They survived the constant phone calls from Andy’s mom, who was worried her son was going down the same path of crazy-in-love romance she did. 

“I told you not to run off and get married, honey,” she said, and Andy could practically hear her shaking her head. 

“Well, he hasn’t proposed yet,” was all Andy could say as he smiled dumbly at Sid, who was fucking up Disarm for the tenth time on Andy’s acoustic. 

“You’re killing me, sweetie,” his mom replied, laugher in her voice, and everything just clicked into place. Nothing ever changed between them, despite her worry over his well-being. They’d always have their banter and level of comfort and Andy loved her so much that sometimes he forgot how much he missed her; she just always seemed to be a part of him. 

A month in and they’d moved past tentative and started toward permanent. Sid called his job and handed in his official resignation. He’d been living off his vacation pay and now would be awarded a severance package, but “It’s time to stop being some lazy California bum,” as Sid put it, and he began looking into other jobs. 

They also started talking about an apartment off-campus, because Sid was really getting tired of people giving him odd looks.

(“I stick out like a sore thumb in your perfect preppy campus, baby.”)

“I dunno,” Andy said to Mandy during a study session in the commons, “it’s just becoming super real, you know?” 

“He moved to California for you, Andy. It’s been real for a while now.” 

Andy smiled, thought about how Sid was probably sprawled out on the bed right now, drawing and smoking. 

“Jesus, you’re gone,” she said, disgusted and envious all at once. 

“I am,” Andy replied happily as he drank his coffee.  
_________________________

Sid didn’t want to go back into the sanitation field. Something about unions and bureaucratic bullshit (Andy was studying too hard for his astronomy test at the time to fully pay attention) so he got a job as a busboy at a diner near campus and blew Andy out back near the garbage cans when he came in for an ice cream soda. 

He lasted three weeks before he got tired of people looking at him like he was less than nothing. 

(“Got enough of that at the last job, don't need it out here too.”)

One weekend they went to a record store in Long Beach that Sid had scoped out online. Sid ‘ooh’d and ‘ahh’d over all the “sweet grunge” they had, while Andy basked in the way Sid had one arm curved around Andy’s shoulder like it was nothing as he flipped through the record bins with his free hand. 

He felt stupidly happy, and if it was some sort of fantasy bubble then Andy hoped to god it would never pop. 

At the register Sid saw a sign that they were looking for help. Three days later he had a new job.

They fucked slowly on the freshly washed sheets of Andy’s bed in celebration, Sid letting him feel every inch. They did it for hours, drank the dumb bottle of champagne that Andy had charged on his ‘emergencies only’ credit card (because dammit, he was proud of his boyfriend ) and then did it some more. 

“If you could pay me to fuck you for a living, baby, I'd never work a day in my life,” Sid said after, face down on the bed and still panting. 

It was probably one of the most romantic things Andy'd ever heard.

Sid brought him home a $1 record after each one of his shifts. He’d had Bruce ship some of his stuff from his apartment back home, the first of which being the record player and his vinyl. 

Sid mostly bought Andy stuff that he himself liked, such as Metallica and Smashing Pumpkins and Guns ‘N Roses. 

The thing was, it was growing on Andy too.  
_________________________

Andy never felt more like an adult than he did with Sid. Not even when he was going out to parties and getting hit on and making out against hallway walls. They did laundry together; Sid perched on the machine in the common space laundry room, listening to his headphones and swinging his feet while Andy sat next to him, nose buried in his anthropology book. They folded clothes together, Sid babbling about his most annoying customers who usually felt like they knew everything and no one else knew shit while Andy compared that to some of the kids in his classes. 

At the end of May, they moved out of Andy’s dorm room and into a small studio apartment that was smaller than Sid’s old place but perfect in Andy’s eyes. 

Now that they had a kitchen, Sid cooked. Usually something simple but always delicious. 

“Got used to doing this shit for myself early on,” he said, and it was still one of those Things They Didn’t Talk About, except Sid would trip up a little bit more often and not find himself biting back the words. Andy would listen, heart swelling. 

Andy washed the dishes while Sid blasted The Downward Spiral on the record player and read comic books. In bed -- if they weren’t fucking around -- they always had the bedside light on while Andy read and Sid drew. Sid let Andy see more and more of his stuff now, and it was good. Really good. All concept art-y and intricate. 

“You should do something with it,” Andy said when they were making out on the bed, hot and heated, while he practically crushed Sid's drawing pad. 

“I'm trying,” Sid said pointedly, his hard cock pressed against Andy’s own, dragging their erections together. Andy gasped and stopped thinking of anything but getting his fingers on Sid’s ass. 

“I meant it,” Andy said later on. 

“Oh baby, believe me. I know you meant it,” Sid groaned, his legs outstretched while he smoked lazily. “My ass is gonna be feeling that tomorrow.”

Andy pressed his face into Sid’s neck to hide his blush before pushing his way off the bed and into their small half kitchen. They’d only recently started doing it that way and Andy still wasn’t used to how incredible it felt to fuck Sid, to be inside someone and feel connected in more ways than just the obvious. 

He was waiting for the coffee to brew when he heard Sid shuffle up behind him. 

“You're talented,” Andy said quietly, staring as the coffee dripped into the pot. 

Sid hooked his chin over Andy’s shoulder and wrapped one arm loose around his waist. Andy shivered. 

“Just sayin’ that cuz you love me.” 

Andy smiled, soft and small. “I do, it’s true.” 

Sid groaned and bit down on Andy’s neck. His hands were hot and hard on Andy’s waist as he turned him around, kissing him long and deep. They fell to the floor in a naked tangle of limbs and made out like they hadn’t just screwed one another into the mattress. 

By the time they were finished gasping and pulled themselves off the floor, Andy’s coffee had gone cold. 

He couldn’t even begin to care.  
_________________________

One of Sid’s co-workers also worked at a tattoo shop. One night when they were all out bowling and eating and drinking with fake ID’s (at least Andy, anyway), it clicked in Andy’s head. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t thought of it sooner. 

“It’d be perfect for you,” said Andy as they were driving home.

“No, it’d be ridiculous.” 

“Shut up.” 

Sid rolled his eyes. “You shut up. I’ve never done anything like that before, are you kidding me?” 

“You’d be great and Billy can probably get you an in.” 

Sid shook his head and blew out the smoke from his cigarette. “You’re such a dreamer.” 

Andy was frustrated but a week later he found Sid tracing something with a stencil and smiled behind his mug. 

So Sid got a gig two nights at the place where Billy worked, after coming in for a ‘practice’ day of tracing tattoos on people. That night when Sid came home, he drew on Andy’s skin all over and then kissed every inch with his tongue. 

Sid loved his new chosen path and Andy was stupidly proud. He’d sometimes show up at the shop while Sid was working, hanging around and watching his deft fingers move. It was ridiculously hot and he’d be all over Sid before they even got in the car to head home. 

In between it all, Andy got a job at one of those tourist-y booths on the boardwalk and Andy’s mom and Molly arrived in August to stay for a few weeks. It was weird at first. He knew his mom liked Sid alright, but he also knew she was still pretty worried about her son being shacked up at 18-now-19. 

Sid was perfectly polite though, and he really loved Molly; he’d come a ridiculously long way since their awkward soccer first meeting. He showed them the shop and the record store and bought everyone lunch at a 50’s style diner. He sat in the booth with his arm heavy and secure around Andy’s shoulder and Andy beamed even as he blushed. 

“You seem really happy, honey,” his mom said as they watched the sunset on the beach while Sid spun Molly around in his arms at the water’s edge. 

“I really friggin’ am,” Andy said with feeling, and they both laughed, bumping shoulders. 

Molly loved Sid’s tattoo and was fascinated when he said he was gonna get another. 

“Are _you_ gonna get a tattoo, Andy?” she asked, wide-eyed as they walked back up to the car. 

Andy flushed, sneaking a look at Sid whose eyes flashed with het. “Um, I dunno.” He’d thought about it a lot now that Sid had started his new career path. 

“Andrew Davis,” his mom said sharply. 

Sid laughed and cuffed Andy around the neck, leaning in to kiss his temple. “Corrupting you, told ya.” 

Andy blushed some more.  
_________________________

Sid didn’t get his new tattoo until Andy’s mom and Molly left and he still refused to tell Andy what it was gonna be. Billy was doing it, and they’d put their heads together in secret and pass Sid’s notebook back and forth and it wasn’t cool, not at all. 

“You might hate it,” Sid admitted one night, when they were both smoking up on the beach.

“I doubt it,” Andy replied. “You look good with ink on your skin.” 

Sid waggled his eyebrows and Andy kissed him, pressing him into the sand. 

He found out the source of Sid’s nerves when he got home from work one day to Sid peeling off the clear bandage to apply some tattoo goo. 

“Um.” He stared at the reddened skin, the black lines stark against Sid’s complexation. It was on his calf. It was -- well. It was essentially the Smashing Pumpkins logo, the very same one he loved using to sign his initials with, except instead of an ‘SP’ inside the lopsided heart, there was an ‘AD’.

Shit. 

Sid snorted, looking up and away quickly. “Probably should’ve gotten a fake first, huh.” 

Andy shook his head wordlessly and moved across the room in a daze, tilting Sid’s face up and kissing him over and over until Sid kissed back, his hands coming up to rest low on Andy’s waist. 

“Fuck, my mom’s gonna freak,” Andy said between kisses. 

“Well don’t tell her, genius,” Sid gasped back and then they were on the floor and Sid was on top of him and Andy absolutely wasn’t thinking about disapproving mothers. 

“I can't believe you did that,” Andy whispered later when his head was resting on Sid’s thigh and his fingers were tracing the clear plastic covering the tattoo. 

“Yeah, well,” Sid said and Andy could hear him shrug. “I'm a tattoo artist now. A removal job ain't as hard as people make it sound.”

Andy felt a chill run through him. He looked up at Sid, eyes a little shiny. “ I don't want you to remove it,” he whispered. 

Sid held his gaze, and Andy watched him swallow. “Good. Because I really don't ever wanna.” 

_________________________

For Sid’s birthday Andy announced he wanted a tattoo and he wanted Sid to give it to him. 

“Uh, hello, who's birthday is it?”

Andy ignored him and slid the piece of paper across the table. They were at a diner after one of Andy’s night classes and Sid’s shift at the record shop. They had nowhere to be and no one to answer to. 

Sid unfolded it and his eyes immediately widened. 

Andy's heart thumped like thunder in his chest. 

“Wasn't aware you were such a Pumpkins fan, Andrew.” Sid's voice was teasing, knowing, happy. 

Andy exhaled loudly. He looked at the logo on the page, the letters that doubled for Sid’s initials and grinned, his cheeks burning. 

“Yeah, well, I figure if it doesn't work out I've got a fall back.” He looked at Sid, challenge evident on his face. 

Sid reached over and took Andy's hand, lacing their fingers together. 

“You bet your ass it'll work out.”

Andy never really had a doubt.  
_________________________

[end]


End file.
